


All His in Dedication

by RogueRosencrantz



Category: Twelfth Night - Shakespeare
Genre: M/M, Sebtonio, Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:52:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4168347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueRosencrantz/pseuds/RogueRosencrantz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three months before he is apprehended in the streets of Illyria, Antonio happens upon a near-drowned young man lashed to a broken mast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All His in Dedication

**Author's Note:**

> Written on occasion of the Bard Birthday Exchange, for tumblr user susansstohelit.  
> I may at some point actually edit this, because it was intended to be much longer, but time constraints happened.  
> And lastly I'm worthless at tagging things for now so I'll deal with it later. Thank you for your patience.

The wind was calm now, despite the sky’s insistence upon remaining gray. Antonio had taken out his dinghy from the damp dock only an hour or so after the squall had died down. Storms like that didn’t hit the coast of Illyria often, but when they did, they were ferocious, and if you were caught on the sea during one… well, it wasn’t likely your family would see you again. Antonio knew these things--he’d spent his life on the sea after all. He knew the warning signs, how the water stirred under the boat, how the caps of the gentle waves were no longer smooth, but white and frothy as they crested.

And he’d noticed it that afternoon, as he talked with the traders who had come into the small harbor earlier in the day. The water was disturbed. There were never large waves in the sea, and though he’d been raised on stories of waves as tall as a full-grown man he’d only witnessed such a sight once. And so Antonio had returned home earlier than he’d intended, tied his boats securely, and gone into his small cottage to wait just as the rains began to fall.

But now the rain had stopped pounding on the windows, the wind was no longer threatening to blow the door open at any moment and put out his fire. Now Antonio was back in his element -- or as close to it as he’d been able to be for several months now. He rowed out further and further from the land, a woven, broad-rimmed hat sitting on his head. The hat caught the sweat momentarily before it rolled down his face as he rowed. The storm had left the air sultry.

As Antonio reached the place he had aimed for, where the land was just barely on the horizon, he lay back in the boat with a sigh. He pulled off his hat and set it over his face, shut his eyes, and went to sleep. He would wake up with the shift in the water if there were to be another squall, he always had. He’d be able to row back to shore in time.

A crack of thunder boomed deafeningly directly over the ship. Antonio glanced up from his small desk, deftly catching the bottle of ink that tried to escape as the left side of the ship was lifted much higher than the right. This is why the small table was bolted to the floor of the little room. The storms usually never got this bad. He could hear the rain pounding on deck and men shouting orders, except when these noises were drowned out by another thunderclap. He got up, from the desk, placing the jar of ink in a hole cut in the table, and stepped out onto the deck of the _Aemelia_ , just as disaster struck. Antonio had to close his eyes suddenly against a flash of blinding light. Moments later, his ears were assaulted with a blast of sound so loud that he fell to his knees, light-headed. Blinking, trying to get the purple-blue splotches out of his vision, he tried to get to his feet, but each time he fell back down to his knees on the deck. Finally, when some vision returned, through the pounding rain, he saw that what remained of his mast was charred black to match the sky, ropes and sails scorched along with anyone unfortunate enough to have been manning them.

Antonio startled awake to a slight shift in the dinghy’s balance. At first he thought it might be the sign of another storm, but as he sat up, he saw that the sky was no more gray than before. The boat shifted again, and Antonio looked over. Nudging the boat with each gentle wave was a piece of driftwood. Driftwood he thought, but looking closer, Antonio saw ropes tied up with the ropes--

“Good God...” Antonio murmured. _A merman?_ No, that was the stuff of fairytales. And yet there was a beautiful creature lashed onto the wood, clumsily, it was true, but effective. His head was just above the water, and the man was clearly unconscious. _Fool_ , Antonio thought,   _he’ll drown for certain if you don’t stop daydreaming of imagined creatures._

Antonio pulled the small knife from his belt and leaned carefully over the side of his dinghy. Without cutting the man’s skin, he cut through the rope tying him to the log. Catching his hand before the shift in balance caused the man’s head to slip underwater, Antonio heaved him around nearer the boat. The man was heavy from his waterlogged clothes, but Antonio just managed to pull him up and over the edge of the boat, shifting his own weight so that the dinghy did not capsize.

Antonio laid the man gently in the foot of the boat. It had been a couple of hours since the storm, and if, as Antonio assumed, this was a survivor of a wreck, he would have been in the water the whole time. Bad news, Antonio thought. He’d seen plenty of men die from just such an event, their bodies becoming colder and colder until they just stopped. He placed his hand on the young man’s neck, waiting -- good, there was still a pulse, though slow. Antonio stripped his jacket and wrapped it around the man’s shoulders and head. Then he turned and picked up his oars. He gave pull after pull on the oars, turning back to the land. He had to get back quickly, before the young man lost any more body heat. The jacket would help, but it was thin and would only buy him a little more time.

Antonio hurriedly pulled up to the dock near his small cabin and tied off the boat. He stepped out and carefully dragged the man onto the dock. The man was shivering violently, but still unconscious. Antonio bent down and hoisted him into his arms, carrying him into the house. Having placed the young man down onto the threadbare sofa near the small fireplace, he began tossing dry kindling into it. _A fire should keep him warm enough,_ he thought, stacking a more substantial log on the bed of twigs before setting them alight. The orange flames immediately ate up the nearest kindling, licking the sides of the log, not yet decided on whether to catch there or not. Antonio stood and went into the other room of the small house, pulling the warmest blankets off of his bed, He also pulled a set of plain clothes from the chest set against the foot of the bed. He’d seen enough sailors with these symptoms and new how to take care of them. First and foremost, keep them warm. And if they were wearing wet clothes, no fire or blanket would do any good.

Antonio pulled the young man into a sitting position, unbuttoning his waistcoat carefully before removing it. It was a navy blue fabric, laced with gold ribbon -- _kid must be from a rich family,_ Antonio thought, though there was no coat of arms apparent. Antonio also peeled off the damp shirt below, revealing the man’s slender frame. The boy certainly didn’t seem to have had much manual labor in his past, his hands uncalloused, his arms thin. Antonio pulled the man’s arms through the sleeves of the dry shirt, then pushed it over his head. The dark brown flop of his hair emerged from the fabric -- it was drying into a complete mess, stiff from the salt from the water.

When Antonio had finished changing the young man into dry clothes, he wrapped him in blankets before laying him back down on the sofa. Antonio sat against the sofa, his back pressed into its leg to keep him alert, but his eyes closed. _Who was he?_ The day had gone from mundane to unreal in no time at all. It was like the old stories Antonio had been told when he was young, and he had become bored by the routine of the ship. A beautiful stranger washing up from the sea. It was always wise to take the stranger in -- too often it was a test of some god or other disguised as a helpless beggar; if you did not take them in, you risked ending up cursed. Of course, these weren’t stories Antonio believed, but still the young man seemed impossible.

As he warmed up, the young man began to murmur restlessly. He must have come around and fallen asleep almost immediately. Antonio pulled the blankets back up towards the man’s chin, looking at his face. He had a beautiful face, a chin that looked like it had hardly ever been touched with hair. His jaw curved up gracefully and smoothly. His nose looked as if it had been made a little bit too small for the rest of his head -- almost comically so. But the man was still pale, his thin lips continuing to mutter one word over and over again. Now that he was closer, Antonio could just hear what sound managed to escape: _Viola_.

 _Viola?_ Antonio thought. _Who could that be?_ Was she on the ship with the young man as it crashed and so lost to the sea? Or was she at home waiting for him to return, news of the wreck having not yet reached her ears? Was she a lover? A friend? A relation?

Well, it was no use wondering for now. Antonio placed his hand on the man’s cheek. Still quite cold, but certainly warmer than before. Perhaps he would wake soon, and Antonio could learn something about him. He stood up and went to fill the iron kettle that was sitting by the fireplace. The man would need something to drink and keep him warm -- water with some lemon would probably due.

Just as Antonio settled back down and placed the copper kettle over the flames, he heard a stirring behind him. The man had extracted one arm from the blankets and had placed it on his forehead. Antonio watched. Had he woken up, or was he just shifting in his sleep? But then the man’s eyes opened slowly. He blinked a couple of times, in slow succession. Poor man must be confused, Antonio thought. _One minute he’s on the ship in a storm, the next he’s under some pile of blankets._

* * *

Sebastian blinked. His head was so fuzzy, he could hardly think straight. He heard a loud crack from the fire and flinched. The boards under their feet had snapped like twigs when they’d hit the rock. His sister flew sideways away from him. He’d tried to get to her but he slipped and hit the soaked deck. The wind was knocked out of him and before he knew it he was sliding down the tilted surface towards the water. He had tried to find something to hold onto but the rope he’d grabbed wasn’t fastned. He plunged off the side of the sinking ship into the cold water.

“You awake?” The voice seemed to be muffled, unclear. His head was so heavy, but the voice had come from his left. With great effort, he turned his head slightly, but the room began to spin again and he closed his eyes. “Take it easy there, you’ve only just come round, and your head won’t be the same for a little bit.”

When Sebastian felt a little less dizzy, he opened his eyes again. There was a man kneeling next to him, and a fire flickering not too far behind him. He couldn’t have been much older than Sebastian, if older at all. His hair was a light brown, and a thin beard darkened the lower part of his face, but that was all Sebastian could make out well. The man was quite right, his head wasn’t on right yet. Sebastian’s eyes widened. Where was he? The last he remembered he had tied himself to a large piece of the wreckage with the rope he had grabbed but… he must have passed out and washed up somewhere. Who was this man? A good Samaritan? Or did he have other motives?

“Where? Where am I?” Sebastian managed to rasp, with some difficulty. His throat hurt, perhaps he had swallowed salt water.

“Illyria.” The man answered. He turned back to the fire and started doing something, Sebastian couldn’t see what. “You’re in my cottage. I found you out in the water tied to a piece of wood. I’ve cared for others in similar situations, so I took you in.” He turned back around and was holding a cup with steam rising from the top. “I’m Antonio. Your head any clearer?”

“Illyria?” Sebastian murmured, looking back up at the ceiling. Illyria was far from home. He and Viola had been returning back to Messaline after a request had taken them far north of their home in the heel of Italy. “And yes, a little clearer.”

“Good, you need to drink this. Let’s get you sitting.” Sebastian suddenly felt a strong hand on the back of his neck, supporting his head, lifting slowly up as an arm helped him to sit up. Sebastian closed his eyes, trying to prevent the room from spinning around him unpleasantly. The dizziness stopped more quickly than it had before and he let Antonio rearrange the blankets to be around his shoulders. Antonio then picked up the steaming mug from where he had placed it on the floor and placed it between Sebastian’s hands. He kept his hands around Sebastian’s for a short time, to make sure he had a good hold on the cup. Antonio’s hands were warm around Sebastian’s, and as he released them Sebastian felt just how cold his hands were against the mug. “Drink,” Antonio said brusquely. “We need to make sure you’re warm inside and out.” He paused. “But drink slowly, I don’t know how much salt water you swallowed, and sea water isn’t always too kind on the stomach.”

Sebastian took a small sip of the water. The warm liquid felt like heaven on his throat, and he wanted to down the entire mug in one, but he heeded Antonio’s warning. Antonio watched him intently from a few feet away. “So. What’s your name?” he asked. Sebastian hesitated. Antonio seemed kind. He had, after all, pulled him out of the sea instead of leaving him for dead. Beyond that, Antonio was caring for him, being careful that Sebastian was recovering. But why? He had to know that Sebastian had no money to pay him in return. And as much as Sebastian wanted to believe that men in the world would do such things simply to help other men, he could not rely on it. Viola had always made fun of him for being so trusting of people’s intentions, and she had been the one to keep him from making stupid bargains and the like. Viola. Sebastian could just imagine what she would say. “My name is Rodrigo.”

Over the next week, Antonio took complete care of Sebastian. During the long days when Sebastian was still too weak to wander far from the couch, Antonio amused him with stories -- fantastical stories of the sea. Antonio was open and honest, and Sebastian appreciated this. He felt guilty hiding his real name, a pang of it hitting him each time Antonio called him “Rodrigo.” But what could he do? It was too late to admit to lying -- if he had been cautious, it should have been evident after the first day that Antonio had no ill intent.

“So there we were, middle of the sea, surrounded by water for miles we thought, and then this music starts. It was the most beautiful music you’ve ever heard in your life, like the purest voices singing. And it was just captivating, so we change course to find the source of the music.”

“In the middle of a job? Weren’t you carrying trade goods or something?”

“Well… yes and no. But that’s not important to the story, Rodrigo, what’s important is that we turned and followed the voices. Now, have you ever heard of sirens?”

Sebastian’s forehead wrinkled slightly. “You mean like in the Odyssey?”

“Exactly like in the Odyssey. Now--”

“Bullshit,” Sebastian laughed. “Those aren’t real!”

“Excuse you, Rodrigo, I believe _I_ was the one telling this utterly true story.”

“Fine, how did you get out of it, Antonio?”

Antonio cleared his throat, smiling. Sebastian was onto his game in this story, but all of Antonio’s stories had some elements of fiction to them and that was what made them perfect at times. “Well,” Antonio said, “the Odyssey only talks about one kind of siren. Chicken bodies and the heads of beautiful women. But when we came to the rocks and saw them, there were more. Heads of handsome men, beautiful women, all different appearances. What the myth fails to tell you is that sirens actually change appearance to seem like the paragon of beauty and appeal down to the individual. So the group we saw included a siren tailored to each member of the crew in turn.”

“What did yours look like?” Sebastian asked.

Antonio hesitated. “Mine? Oh, that’s unimportant to the story…”

“Oh come on, I want to hear, Antonio. Please?” Sebastian whine, to which Antonio chuckled, shaking his head.

“Fine, but it’s not that interesting. It happened a long time ago some of the details are fuzzy.”

“You’re stalling. What kind of woman was it?”

“Of your complexion.”

Sebastian raised his eyebrows. “What, pale and sickly? No, Antonio, come on, keep going!”

“Probably no older than you.”

Sebastian’s face fell slightly. “Ah. Sounds a bit like my sister,” he murmured.

“Hm?” Antonio looked at him. “Sorry, my hearing isn’t the best. Cannon room will do that to you.”

“It’s nothing. And what sort of trade ship has a cannon room?”

“I never said she was a trade ship.”

“Well, what kind of ship was it, then?”

“She was more of a war vessel than a trade ship, but she was built to look like a trade ship from a distance. And this is all beside the point. Don’t you want to know how we escaped the wicked sirens that were totally real?”

“Oh yes, I do want to hear the end of this _entirely true_ story.” Sebastian laughed. He couldn’t tell Antonio about his sister. He didn’t even want to think about it. He knew he what Antonio would say: _well you survived, it’s possible she did too. All it would take was someone grabbing her or her doing what you did and tying herself to a large piece of wood. Don’t give up hope._ And Sebastian did not want to hear that. It was those thoughts that had been haunting his fitful sleep, and he knew they were too hopeful, they were just wishful thinking. And he hated it. Antonio’s stories were a blessing, a welcome distraction. He wondered if Antonio knew just how much he was helping.

“Well, we were all entranced and getting closer and closer to the sirens and the rocks encircling them. We’d have been goners. But then someone thought fast. Thomas, the little ten year-old cannon boy we had ran up onto deck. He couldn’t hear the song because the cannons had made him practically deaf over the last several months. He shoved the person steering at the time, a full grown man, mind you, probably thirty-five. Thomas shoved him straight to the deck and managed to steer us away from the rocks.”

“But wouldn’t you all have just tried to turn the boat around? While you were still listening to the song, I mean. The group of you could easily have over-powered Thomas.”

Antonio paused. _Got him_ , Sebastian silently gloated. _Just try to fill in that hole in your story._

“Well this is where Thomas was very clever. He started shrieking, drowning out the sirens. We came to our senses long enough to realize our mistake. We got wax in our ears and navigated out safely. It was a close call though.”

“Hm, it sounds like it…” Sebastian yawned, looking at the clock standing on the table near his seat. The clock was a beautiful dark wood -- walnut, maybe -- that just didn’t seem to fit in with the rest of the furniture in the cottage. The rest was somewhat worn, as if it had been bought from a run-down merchant stall, selling anything he could find. But the clock was in pristine condition. It was out of place. It was late though, and Sebastian was too tired to ask about the clock. That could be a story for another day.

“Tired, Rodrigo?” Antonio asked, quietly, seeing his glance to the clock. Sebastian nodded. “Need anything before you sleep?”

“Nothing. Thank you, Antonio.” He wondered again why Antonio had taken him in. Based on the state of the cottage, while he was not poor, he didn’t seem to have a lot of money to spare. Vaguely, as he drifted off, Sebastian wondered what Sebastian did for money. Just before he fell asleep, he heard Antonio whisper, “Good night, Rodrigo,” before the room went dark as he blew out the candle.

Two weeks after Antonio had pulled him from the sea, Sebastian was at full strength and energy again. Still distraught, yes, but fully recovered physically. Antonio had been reluctant to take him outside of the cottage for a while, but as it became clear, and with Sebastian’s playful pleas, he began to allow it. Antonio began to take him on small expeditions outside, at first just to fish or collect shells on the shores nearby to sell to the vendors at the end of the week. Early on a Sunday morning, just as the sun had begun to rise over the water, transforming the sky into a light blue-gray, just beginning to be tinted with yellow, Antonio woke Sebastian.

“Rise and shine, Rodrigo,” he grinned. Sebastian, now used to this name, groaned and cracked his eyes open. “We’re going to market.”

Sebastian’s blue eyes widened, suddenly alert. “We are? Excellent, I’ve been hoping to!” He sat up quickly and shot out of bed. “When are we going?”  
Antonio chuckled at his sudden burst of enthusiasm. “As soon as I get the supplies we’ve gathered together. We’ll see if we can fetch a good price today,” he said, heading into a small room off the main part of the house. He had spent some time yesterday packing all they had collected that week into manageable packages for the ease of carrying them. He came out of the room and handed a box of seashells to Sebastian to carry. “Be careful with those, they don’t sell for much as it is, and they won’t sell if they’re broken.”  
“I know, Antonio, I’ll be careful.”

Antonio came out of the little room with a basket of salted fish on his back. “Well, let’s go, we’ll want to get there early, so the vendors don’t finish buying before we get there.”  
They walked together out of the cottage and along the gravel path, chatting quietly in the cool morning air. Being the middle of summer, the day would get hot later on. But for now the cool air was pleasant blowing off the sea. At the end of the gravel path there was a fork in the road. Antonio took the path left without a second glance, but Sebastian looked back over his shoulder.

“What’s over that way, Antonio?”

“Another town. Bigger than the one we’re going to. More of a city in fact,” he replied tersely.

“Oh… do you ever go? It seems like that would be a good place to sell things…”

“No. I don’t set foot there when I can avoid it. I’m… well, let’s just say I’m not really well-liked there.” Antonio sighed.

Sebastian frowned. “Why not?” He quickened his pace to fall in step with Antonio as they neared the little village near the market.

“It’s a long story. The duke in charge, Duke Orsino,” he spat out the name like something foul tasting, “and I don’t get along well. I made his life very hard a couple years ago, and he didn’t really appreciate that for some reason. I much prefer this little village.”

“But you’d be much better off in that city, couldn’t you just apologi--”

“No. Let’s discuss this later, Rodrigo, we’ve got business to do.” Antonio’s tone indicated to Sebastian that the conversation was over for the time being, so he didn’t ask anymore questions. He and Antonio began to stop by stalls, haggling for better prices on the goods they had collected. Antonio knew some of the merchants quite well, Sebastian could tell. He knew exactly how to make them raise their offer to the price he wanted, and the threat of beginning to sell to a different merchant in the market seemed particularly effective. He was a good contributor, and by the time they had emptied their baskets of fish, shells and other little items, Antonio’s purse jangled at his waist, full of money. Antonio then bought a few necessities from the other stalls, and they began their walk back.

Sebastian was still curious about Antonio’s dislike of the city, but he was still afraid to ask. Antonio had seemed unwilling to talk about it, and although Sebastian did want to know, he couldn’t blame Antonio for wanting to keep things to himself. After all, Sebastian still hadn’t even revealed his actual name, or anything about his family. But the later it got, the closer he and Antonio became, the less he wanted to reveal that he had not given his real name. Antonio had helped him wholeheartedly, opening himself up, telling stories about himself, and Sebastian had not even told Antonio his real name.

However, by the time they returned home, Antonio seemed back to his cheerful self. He hummed what sounded like a chantey as he put away the things he had bought at the market. Sebastian sat down on the couch, next to the table with the fine clock that ticked away perfectly, and picked up a book. When he was done putting things away, Antonio joined him, sitting next to him on the couch with another book. They read together for a little while, the silence broken only by the occasional squawk of a gull and the ticking of the walnut clock. Sebastian looked over at Antonio, and thought he might have caught him look quickly back down at his book, but he couldn’t be sure. “May I ask you a question?”

Antonio looked over, “Of course. You don’t need to ask permission for that. Ask away.”

“Is there a story behind this clock? It just seems… special.”

Antonio laughed. “What, because it’s the only nice furniture I own? Is that it?” And before a somewhat flustered Sebastian could reply, he said, “It is true. There is a story that goes with it, but it’s a long one, and I doubt you’d be very interested…”

“I am, though!”

“Well, I suppose I could tell you a shortened version.” Antonio sighed, reaching behind Sebastian’s shoulders to place the book on the table next to the clock. “It’s probably better that I do tell you, in fact. It has to do with what you were wondering about earlier.” Antonio ran his fingers through his hair. “Remember that I told you Orsino ruled most of that area?” Sebastian nodded. “Well, I actually got the clock from Orsino.”  
Sebastian frowned, “I thought you two didn’t get along.”

“Well, we don’t now. He and I did get along at one point though.

Sebastian gave a sly smile. “Does that mean you and he slept together?”

Antonio laughed, “That’s generally not what I mean when I say I get along with someone. But in this case… yes. One time.”

“I know, I know, I was teasing you. So, what happened?”

“Well, like I said, it was one time. We met at a bar in that town when I was on shore leave once, and we talked and he was clearly flirting with me. It was pretty much as simple as that. It just happened to be my last night of leave.”

“So he didn’t take kindly to you vanishing the next morning, did he?”

“Not. At. All.” Antonio said, rolling his eyes. “I understand why he was upset, but… well he took getting back at me a little bit far,” he ran his hand through his hair again agitatedly. “Apparently I made the mistake of telling him which ship I was on, and the next time we pulled in to trade, he closed the port against us. He’d even set up cannons in the market. He put several good holes in my ship.”

“And of course, you couldn’t have that.”

“No. You’re not a sailor, so you wouldn’t understand, but my ship was my livelihood. So, I made his life difficult in retaliation, after my ship was fixed. The little town we went to was the town that supplied me with materials for the repairs and even let me dock there. That’s why I prefer them.”

“So, you still hate Orsino for this?” Sebastian raised his eyebrows. “How long ago was this?”  
“A couple years now. And no, that isn’t even why I hate him now. He also isn’t doing anything to spite me at this point. He has no idea I settled so close to him,” he chuckled. “Orsino thinks I’m still out on the sea and probably lives in fear that I’ll come back and make his life hellish again.”

“So why now?”

“Well, that’s because recently Orsino has been trying to squeeze the profits out of this city. His territory is bigger and often out-competes the little town. I suspect that Orsino wants total trade control over this area. I hear he’s trying hard to impress someone.”

“I see… So now you’re just trying to help out the town that helped you.”

“Well that makes me sound awfully noble, but yes I suppose I am.” Antonio got up and went to the other side of the room. Sebastian heard him get himself a cup of water. “So the clock. That did come from Orsino. In a manner of speaking. Just, not exactly with his permission.”

Sebastian looked around, laughing. “Really? That’s amazing! Did you steal it?”

“Enough questions, Rodrigo.” Antonio said, coming back over, picking up the book, and lightly smacking Sebastian on the top of his head. When Sebastian pretended to pout, he just smiled and ruffled his hair above the spot. “No complaining, you.”

He and Antonio went on like this for a few weeks -- collecting what they could throughout the week, selling all they could, always talking and telling tales. Sebastian found it was now easy to avoid questions about himself. He, however, did feel a strong stab of guilt now every time Antonio referred to him as Rodrigo. And though he now completely trusted Antonio’s intentions, he still could not tell Antonio his true name. Before he had kept his real name secret because they didn’t know each other at all, but now he kept the secret because they did know each other well. Antonio was dedicating his whole life, his attention, his money to Sebastian without retention or restraint -- no, not to Sebastian, but to Rodrigo. And this is what Sebastian was afraid of; he was afraid that if he did tell Antonio his name, Antonio would be furious that he hadn’t told the truth after all this time. For goodness sake, if they were close enough to walk to the market hand in hand, they should be close enough to know each other’s name.

“Rodrigo!” Antonio called from outside the house. He had just gone out shell collecting in the horrid heat while Sebastian had remained in the house reading. They’d been up late drinking and laughing the night before, after Antonio had gotten some wine from market the day before. Sebastian had woken up feeling somewhat ill, and Antonio had told him just to stay inside for today. Antonio came in, shining with sweat, his shirt soaked. “Feel any better?” he asked, clapping Sebastian on the shoulder.

“Much, thanks,” Sebastian said, looking up from his book.

“Well, I’m probably going to take a dip in the sea, it’s beastly out there. Care to join me?”

“I’ll sit on the edge of the dock with you,” Sebastian said, standing up, gently folding the corner of the page of his book down to keep his place. Antonio turned and left outside, stripping off his shirt as he did so. Sebastian followed Antonio out shortly after, but Antonio was already in the water. Antonio had been right; it was scorching outside. The sun was shining down from the heavens bright, no clouds in sight to foil its shine. Sebastian walked along the deck to where Antonio was now swimming around, and sat on the edge, his bare feet stuck into the water. This helped with the heat. The ocean was still cool despite the heat of the sun.

Antonio swam up to the dock and leaned his forearms up against it, so that he was half out of the water. “Don’t want to swim?”

“This is fine for me.”

Antonio looked up at him. “Alright, just wondered. Do you not like the water?”

Sebastian shook his head, “No, I’m just not all that good at swimming. I can get by in a pinch, for a couple minutes at least, but doing it for fun is out of the question.”

“Oh. I thought you may just not be comfortable with it… given…”

“The wreck?”

“Wrecks like that can shake people up. Make them not want to go on water ever again. And for good reason.”

Sebastian thought. “It’s not that I’m scared of the sea or anything. Hell, I don’t even hate it. I lost people who were very dear to me in that wreck. So of course I’m sad, but I don’t hold it against the sea. There’s no way it could have done anything different. We were on a boat in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Antonio just sat in silence, looking at him.

“I mean. If I’m totally honest, I want something to blame. I desperately want something that I could blame for losing the people on that ship. But there isn’t anyone to blame. It’s just fate. You can’t fight against your stars, and you can yell at the and defy them as much as you want, but it won’t make a difference.” Sebastian looked down at his book, but he didn’t read. He could feel his eyes beginning to burn but he refused to cry. Viola didn’t need any more salt water to her name than she had already.

Antonio murmured something inaudible and put a hand on Sebastian’s knee. Sebastian found this to be simultaneously better and worse. It was comforting, having Antonio there to talk to. But his gentle, warm hand only served to remind him how he was betraying Antonio’s care. Antonio wanted to help him and Sebastian couldn’t pluck the courage to admit to his lie.

“It’s alright to be sad. Wanting to blame something is natural. But you’re exceedingly wise to not hate the sea for it. When my ship wrecked and half my crew died, even I was scared of the water.” Sebastian looked up, surprised. “Yes, even I hated the sea for a time. There was another tempest a year or so ago that destroyed my ship. The Aemelia was ruined. I was pulled out of the sea by a good Samaritan from the little village we visit. And I cursed the sea for a couple of months. But it was bad fortune. Everything that happens comes down to fortune or fate. That’s just the shitty way the world works.”

Sebastian nodded quietly. The burning behind his eyes had gone, but he sat still a while longer before actually beginning to read his book. So Antonio had also lost his ship. Maybe that was how he knew to tell stories in the time that Sebastian was bedridden -- he knew what was in Sebastian’s mind, even if he knew no details.

“Was Viola one of the people you lost?” Antonio asked softly.

Sebastian was startled. “What? How do you know Viola?”

“Two months ago, when I pulled you out of the water, you were sleeping restlessly, and you kept muttering one name. Viola. Over and over again. I just wondered if that was who you were talking about.”

Sebastian paused. “Yes. She was on board. She was very dear to me, indeed.” Antonio did not press for more answers, for which Sebastian was grateful.

About a week later, Antonio ran into difficulty. One day, as he was splitting wood for their cooking fire, his hatchet cracked down the middle instead of the wood. He rummaged around in the storage room, but he could not find another hatchet. Grumbling, he emerged, rubbing his head which he had whacked on the door frame of the small room. “Well, Rodrigo, if you’re still interested in visiting the other town, it looks like I’m going to have to make a trip there today.” He pointed to the ruined hatchet sitting on the table.

Sebastian, who had wanted to visit the bigger city, but felt that it would perhaps betray Antonio’s kindness to do so, was excited to go. “Absolutely, I’ll go with you. Are you ready now or?”

“No, it’ll be a moment. Hold your horses.” Antonio said, pulling a pile of black folded fabric from a drawer. He went off to change and Sebastian didn’t think anything of it until he reemerged in a parson’s outfit.

“What’s that for?” Sebastian asked, confused.

“Well, Orsino really really didn’t like me, so he has permanently outlawed me from that city with a decent price on my capture, so I don’t like to risk going there openly. A disguise usually does the trick as long as I’m not careless.” He put the hatchet in his bag. “Let’s go, I don’t want to stay too long there.”

At the blacksmith’s, Antonio paid out much of what was in his purse for the repair of his hatchet. The smithy seemed confused that the parson himself would come to get his hatchet repaired, to which Antonio replied that he was just paying for the young man he was escorting, who was new to the city. The smithy replied that he was very kind, and informed Antonio and Sebastian that the repaired hatchet would be ready in two hours or so if they cared to return then.

Sebastian and Antonio walked back out into the sunlight. Despite the heat, Sebastian was looking around with great energy, interested in all the different kinds of shops. He agreed with Antonio that they would browse for an hour or so and then retire to a bar Antonio sometimes visited, The Elephant. So, they wandered around from shop to shop, looking at what small trinkets were available. Sebastian only bought one thing -- rather, Antonio bought it for him, seeing his particular interest: a small wooden amulet with a protective charm to guard against shipwrecks carved into it. _Usually, we hang that on the prow of a ship before a journey we know will be dangerous_ , Antonio had told him.

After an hour of this, they walked down the street to The Elephant. The pub was dark, with not many windows, and, thankfully, cooler than outside. After ordering drinks, Antonio and Sebastian sat down.

After a time, Antonio asked, “so, Rodrigo, what do you think of the town?”

Sebastian took a sip of his drink. “It’s lovely. It reminds me a bit of home.”

Antonio nodded. “I don’t hate it. I just wish I could walk here in honesty.” Antonio had taken off his hat. It would be more suspicious for a parson to be wearing a hat indoors than not, and it was surely dark enough inside this pub that--

“Captain?” A slurred voice came from a table nearby them. Antonio tensed, but did not look around. Sebastian, however, glanced over to find the source of the voice. A short squat man stumbled out of his chair with a clatter. “Captain, is that you? I thought it might be but I wasn’t sure…” he slurred. He made his way the short distance to the table. At this point, Antonio had to take action.

“You must be mistaking me for someone else, sir. I am but a simple parson--” but he was cut off by the man’s loud voice that was quickly attracting the attention of others in the bar.

“No, I’d recognize you anywhere. You’re our captain! I remember when we captured the Mariah together, just off this very coast.”

“You are mistaken, sir. I’ve not met you.” It was then that Sebastian noticed what looked like officers in the corner of the pub that they had not seen upon their entrance. Their interest had been piqued by the drunkard’s words.

“Nonsense,” the drunk continued to yell, “I’d recognize you anywhere. Can’t pull the wool over my eyes, Captain Antonio.”

Antonio quickly stood and punched the man hard in the side of the face. Sebastian gasped as the man fell back to the floor, unconscious. Antonio clutched his knuckles, “Goddamn fool of a ship boy, Jones,” he muttered. Then, glancing at Sebastian’s shock, he seemed to realize his mistake. His eyes widened and he quickly grabbed his hat. “Get up very calmly and slowly, Rodrigo. We’re leaving.”

They left payment for the drinks on the table, and began leaving the pub, as casually as they could. However, just as they reached the door, a large hand landed on Sebastian’s shoulder and turned him around. He saw in his peripheral vision that the same had happened to Antonio. It was the two guards. “Pardon me, parson,” one began.

“Yes, my son, how may I help you?”

“We couldn’t help but overhear some of your conversation with the drunkard earlier. Is there any truth in what he said, father?”

“None at all,” Antonio said breezily. “I just met this young man who asked for my help in his home.” He looked at Sebastian significantly from under the brim of his hat. “His poor mother is ailing and was in need of a man of the church. I was just going to help him, but if you two need me, I can send him ahead.” He turned to Sebastian and said, “My son, go on and finish your errand in town, then return straight home, I shall be along in not too long a while.”

Sebastian wanted to protest but could not safely say anything. so he simply smiled and said, “Gladly. Thank you, father.”

Sebastian turned to leave but he was stopped, “A word with you, young man?” One of the officers had stepped forward after him. “Outside.” Sebastian nodded and stepped out with the officer. “Young man, you just met that parson inside, correct?”

Sebastian nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, do not expect him back as soon as he says. We have reason to believe it is actually the dangerous pirate by the name of Antonio and an enemy to the Duke.”

“A… A pirate?”

“Yes. He plagued these lands up until a year ago when he mysteriously stopped bothering us. He’s still wanted in this city by order of Duke Orsino.”

Just then, Antonio came sprinting out of the pub, followed after a slight delay by the other officer, pulling the parson hat off from over his eyes. The officer who had been talking to Sebastian, turned and ran after Antonio as well.

Sebastian stood dazed for a moment. Then he stumbled back down the street towards the blacksmith. He picked up the hatchet, good as new. What to do? He couldn’t very well help Antonio, being uncertain where he’d run to. And besides, Antonio had done his utmost to protect Sebastian, thinking fast enough to pretend not to have met him before. All Sebastian could do was go back down to the cottage and hope for the best.

Back at the cabin, Sebastian waited. The clock said it was just three twenty when he arrived back. Sebastian waited. First, he paced. He paced from one end of the cottage to the other, then occasionally outside to wait for a few minutes, hoping to see Antonio coming down the path, then inside again. An hour passed this way. Then two. Sebastian’s legs tired of the constant pacing and he sat on the couch. He tried to read, but he couldn’t focus on the words, so he ended up sitting staring at the clock. Its steady ticks gave him something to focus on.

It was nearly seven when he heard someone coming down the gravel path towards the house and he shot up. As a very tired looking Antonio stepped into the house, Sebastian ran over and practically threw himself onto Antonio in a hug. Antonio staggered back slightly, a confused grunt leaving him as Sebastian hit him.

“Antonio!”

“Rodrigo… It’s alright, everything is fine.”

“It’s been four hours, Antonio!” Sebastian cried, looking him up and down for injury. Antonio was a little bit scratched up, but nothing serious.

“Were you really that worried?”

“Of course I was. What are the little scratches from?”

“I had to hide in some briar to lose those guards, and extracting myself proved trickier than I had anticipated, that’s all. I’m sorry I worried you. But I’m glad you made it back safely. No one followed, I assume?”

“No one. You managed to convince the guards that I was a near stranger to you, and that I had no way of knowing you were a…” Sebastian trailed off. Well, that part had been true. He’d had no idea that Antonio was a pirate.

Antonio looked down and swallowed. “Yes. I suppose I have some explaining to do. I was a pirate for years in these waters. That was how I made my money. That was also how I got back at Orsino for trying to ruin my ship.” He sighed, “I stopped almost every single trade ship that tried to get into his port of about six months. I left just enough untouched that the villagers would survive, but hardly. I made Orsino’s life a living hell. But yes, I was a pirate.” He gestured to the walnut clock. “That’s where that really came from. I intercepted a ship and could tell that was on its way to Orsino. That was the only thing that I had the foresight to place in my home before my ship was wrecked.”

Sebastian was silent. He had been taught from a young age that pirates were brutal murderers, that they messed up trade and should always be regarded as enemies. But he knew Antonio too well to think that.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. Most people hate pirates by definition. I didn’t want you to hate me.”

Sebastian looked directly into Antonio’s blue eyes; they were standing only a few inches apart and his face was very close to Antonio’s. “I don’t hate you. I know you, I don’t need a definition to figure out what I think about you. I figured that out from getting to know you in person.” Sebastian gulped, and glanced down to the ground. “But since we’re on the topic of things that should have been said a long time ago, I have a few things as well.”

He glanced back up at Antonio’s face but couldn’t quite read it. “I told you a fake name when we met. And I never corrected it. My name is Sebastian, which I called Rodrigo. I didn’t want you to be angry at me for hiding my name at first.” Sebastian took a breath, but before Antonio could respond, he continued, “And then I never told you the full truth about Viola. I have a sister, born in the same hour as I was. She and I were on the ship together, but we were separated during the wreck. My twin and I probably would have died at the same time, but you prevented that and saved me. I’m sorry, Antonio, you deserved to know all of this a long time ago.”

There was a short silence, during which Antonio just looked at Sebastian. Then a small smile spread across his lips. Sebastian was confused for a moment, but before he could ask why he was smiling, Antonio leaned in to kiss him.

When they broke apart, Sebastian was stunned. “You… you don’t hate me, then?”

“Oh please,” Antonio laughed, “I’m far too in love with you to do that, Sebastian.”

 


End file.
